Portrait
by dejaceratops
Summary: In which Everett Anderson paints a semi-nude portrait of his girlfriend.


**A/N:** This ficlet marks the first appearance of my OFC Cher Underwood. I (think) I mentioned her in the author's note to Feathers. I know most people don't like OFCs, and I know the idea of using her and Everett – two characters that don't exist at all in Glee canon – in Glee fic is completely strange, but I think she has potential. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Glee, it'd be on CineMax, and Blaine Anderson would have no wardrobe whatsoever.

"Will you sit for me?"

Everett's voice hummed with tension, a look of trepidation filling his eyes. Cher's head snapped up, her fingers pausing above the boots she'd been lacing up.

"You…you wanna sketch me?" Everett shook his head.

"I wanna paint you. I…" he cleared his throat nervously and looked away, shaking his head as he picked at an imaginary lint ball on his shirt. "Never mind." He bit hard on his bottom lip, eyes not meeting his girlfriend's.

"Ev, don't," Cher scolded gently, rubbing the pad of her thumb across the now red lip. She rose on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of Everett's mouth before cupping his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. He tried to pull away, but she didn't let him. She was absolutely puzzled; in the entire time she'd known Everett Anderson – her entire life, more or less – she'd never known him to be nervous. He was ballsy and brave. She didn't know what to make of this shy, stuttering version of the boy she loved. "You know you can say anything to me. Don't be nervous."

Everett looked into Cher's eyes and knew she wouldn't judge him, wouldn't call him a pervert and run away from him forever if he told her what he was thinking. He wrapped his hands around her wrists, lightly stroking her skin.

"I wanna paint your tattoos."

Cher froze. She knew now why Everett had been anxious, and she couldn't really blame her. She knew that saying he wanted to paint her tattoos was Everett's very diplomatic way of saying something _very different_; she understood immediately what he wanted, and she let herself think seriously about what he was truly asking her before she made a decision. She cleared her throat loudly, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly before nodding her head.

"Okay. I…okay." She stroked Everett's cheekbone, her opposite hand playing in the loose curls at the back of his neck. Everett nearly choked, never having expected her to agree to his request, and the shock on his face made Cher laugh brightly.

"You- you'll do it? Really? Seriously?" Cher nodded emphatically, stroking his face again.

"I trust you, Ev. And I know you'd never do anything to make me look bad. So if you want this then I want it, too." Everett beamed and surged forward, fusing his lips with Cher's. She moaned against him, laughing as he picked her up and swung her around, their mouths still pressed tightly together. When Everett set her back down again, he buried his face in her hair, squeezing her body in his arms.

"Thank you," he whispered against her ear and sending a shiver down her spine, "Thank you for trusting me." Cher smiled and grabbed her purse from on top of Everett's bed, turning back to him and kissing him softly after slipping it over her arm.

"When?"

"Blaine's spending all day with Kurt then staying at his house overnight." Cher's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I'm guessing if they've okayed this sleepover that Kurt's parents don't know that he and Blaine are-"

"Nope. No clue," Everett laughed, and Cher joined him. "So…meet me here in the morning? We'll have breakfast and then get started?" Cher reached up to kiss Everett's cheek.

"I'll be here at eight. I lo-" Cher stopped, suddenly nervous, eyes wide. Everett leaned down and kissed her slowly, fingers sliding into her thick hair to hold her to him.

"You can say it. It's okay."

"I love you," Cher whispered, smiling when Everett said it back. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Let me know when you get home," Everett called after her as she walked out of his room.

"I will," she threw over her shoulder in response. He listened as her footsteps landed on the staircase and echoed through the front hallway before the door opened and closed. He walked to his window and watched her climb into her car and pull out of the driveway.

When he got Cher's text not five minutes later, he let himself fall into bed, knowing she was home safely. He fell asleep with a warmth spreading through his body, his dreams full of smiling brown eyes, blushing red cheeks, and smooth caramel skin.

At eight o'clock sharp, her clear, melodious voice rang through the house.

"Everett?" He groaned into his pillow, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

"I'll be down in a second!" he shouted back, heading to his bathroom to put in his contacts.

"Don't rush! Breakfast will take a bit." He frowned at that, washing his face and putting his lenses in. He slipped into an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that had once been white but was now splattered with paint. As he descended the stairs, the smell of bacon hit his nose and he groaned, his stomach rumbling loudly. He turned into the kitchen to find Cher laughing at the stove.

"I heard that from all the way in here," she grinned, turning her cheek into his kiss. He moaned in response, wrapping his arms around her from behind and setting his chin on her shoulder.

"You didn't have to cook."

"I know. I wanted to."

"So did I. You spoiled my fun." Cher could hear the pout in his voice and chuckled, reaching behind her to pat his hip playfully.

"Awwww. You're a big boy. You'll be fine. Besides, you get to have your fun after we eat." Any other time, Everett would've wiggled his eyebrows and made her comment into some sort of naughty joke, but he refrained from doing so this time as Cher was absolutely right. Painting her would be an absolute pleasure, and he couldn't wait to get started.

The two ate and chatted happily, sharing bright smiles across the table. When both their plates were clear, Everett gathered the dishes and stood up.

"I'll take care of these. You can head to my room while I finish here and set up in the studio and then join me when you're ready." Cher nodded and left the kitchen, slowly climbing the stairs and entering Everett's bedroom. His bed was still unmade, covers rumpled from his sleep, and she climbed in, breathing in his scent as it surrounded her. She let the familiar smell of his cologne and shampoo calm her racing heart, and she lay still as she listened to the telltale signs of Everett preparing to work in the studio across the hall. Eventually the noises stopped, and she knew he was ready. She took a deep breath and began to get ready too.

Everett had lined up his paints and brushes, set up his easel and selected his canvas, and now he was waiting. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was trying hard to keep his breathing in check. He was biting his lip and bouncing his leg nervously as he listened for any signs of Cher. He'd thought he'd heard the creak of his mattress earlier, but he hadn't heard anything after that, and he was wondering if maybe she'd decided to forget about the whole thing and fall asleep in his bed. He wasn't sure whether he was disappointed or excited by this thought; his fingers ached, he was so ready to do this portrait, but the thought of that gorgeous girl curled up in _his bed_ sent electricity buzzing through his body.

And then suddenly his spine tingled with awareness.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten before standing and turning around. His mouth dried out when he saw Cher standing in front of him, one of his button downs draped over her body. She was short, and that was saying something coming from him, so the bottom of the shirt hit her at mid-thigh, and the sleeves tumbled over her fingers. She looked up at him, brown eyes bright with nerves, and he was suddenly filled with a calm he'd never known before. He approached her slowly, reaching out for her hands and kissing each of them before leaning down to kiss her temple. She exhaled against him, hands trembling in his though she gave no other outward sign of being distressed. He cupped her chin in his hand and raised her eyes to meet his.

"You ready?" he asked quietly? She nodded and he walked her over to the giant cushion he'd set on the floor in front of his easel.

Cher eyed the pillow curiously. It was a deep red that she knew would look beautiful paired with her caramel skin tone. It was thick and fluffy, and she assumed that was for her benefit. She looked to Everett and raised an eyebrow in question.

"Whenever you're comfortable," he said, and she inhaled deeply. He stepped back to sit on his stool in front of the canvas, his hands curled into fists as he waited with bated breath.

Cher took one last deep breath before turning around, her back to Everett. She reached down and unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, the fabric pooling at her feet.

Everett's heart literally stopped. He watched as the smooth white fabric of his shirt fell down Cher's body, catching on her wide hips before sliding to the ground. She'd chosen simple black panties to wear that day, the material framing her ass gorgeously and making his mouth water. She had the most beautiful figure he'd ever seen, all curves and softness, and the black f-holes inked into her skin made her stood out starkly against her complexion. She looked like a human Stradivarius, smooth brown body and ebony hair, and he almost forgot about painting her in favor of indulging his desire to lay her out on the floor and coax a symphony of notes from her with his fingers and his lips.

He pulled himself together when she looked over her shoulder at him, eyebrows creased and teeth tugging at her lower lip. She opened her mouth to ask if he was okay, but he shook his head to silence her, instead gesturing to the cushion.

"Sit down on your knees and tuck your legs under you." She nodded, understanding the need for the pillow now. She sat down gracefully, her years of training as a ballet dancer not leaving her despite her nerves. She sat back on her heels and folded her hands together in her lap.

"What do you want me to do with my hair?" she asked. Everett debated telling her to pin it up so he could see more of her skin, but the fall of black curls over her back was beautiful and made her look more like someone modeling for a piece of art than a piece of pornography. It tumbled wildly over her shoulders and stopped at the bottom of her shoulder blades. She looked perfect.

"Leave it the way it is. It's great," he whispered and she nodded. He shook out his hands before sitting down on his stool and selecting a brush, looking over at her and calling out.

"Here we go." She exhaled loudly.

"Okay."

Cher sat quietly for a long time as she listened to the sound of Everett's brush strokes over the canvas. After regulating her breathing and calming her nerves, she opened her eyes and took advantage of a rare opportunity to examine Everett's most sacred space. She took in her surroundings happily. The walls were a golden yellow that she was certain shouldn't look good but did. The couch along the back wall was red and comfy looking, and she realized that it was where the cushion she was sitting on had come from. The lighting was yellow and dim today, adding a glow to the room that she knew was to achieve the look Everett wanted for her portrait. The space was warm and relaxing and very…Everett. She'd always liked his studio, and she felt honored to be allowed in it. Being a subject for one of his paintings was an even greater honor, and she smiled to herself, looking down at her hands to pick at her nails.

"Don't move," she heard him warn, and she lifted her head again.

"Sorry," her voice cracked, and Everett didn't miss it. His brush paused over the canvas.

"Cher? Are you okay?"

"…maybe I shouldn't have eaten breakfast first," she said, looking down at her stomach. She was starting to feel vulnerable and exposed, insecure about her curvy figure, and Everett shook his head.

"Don't you dare. You look incredible. You have the most beautiful body I've ever seen." Cher's eyes filled with tears at the conviction and sincerity in his voice. She nodded, knowing he'd seen when she heard his brush pull across the canvas again.

"How much have you gotten done?" she asked, not sure how long she'd been sitting.

"The background's done. I'm starting on you," he said, tone distracted. She laughed.

"Oh God," she said, her amazement at his speed not quite masking the sudden reappearance of her nerves.

"Do you need to get up or anything? Use the bathroom, maybe get a drink?" She shook her head.

"No, Ev. I'm okay." She knew he'd nodded his understanding even though she couldn't see him. She could probably use something to drink and a chance to stretch her legs, but that would mean she'd have to face him to retrieve the shirt she'd used to cover herself.

This, of course, meant exposing herself to Everett.

As terrifying an idea as that was, Cher couldn't help but feel like this, sitting half naked with her back turned while the boy she'd loved since she was seven recreated her every line and curve in paint, was somehow more intimate than letting him see her fully. There was something about him painting her like this that made her feel more vulnerable than she'd thought she would. But she trusted him and loved him, and while she was feeling very exposed, she felt a warmth start somewhere in her chest and radiate to her fingers and toes and low in her belly at the same time.

There was something sexy about this, about posing for him. About being his muse. She liked it a lot.

Everett worked carefully but quickly. He was working on the curve of Cher's feet tucked sweetly under her body when he heard her begin to sing softly. Her voice filled him, adding to the warmth that spread through him when he thought how this session was more intimate than anything the two of them had ever done physically together. He listened to her sing while he worked, recognizing the melody after she'd been singing for a little while.

_Una mirada no dice nada  
>Y al mismo tiempo, lo dice todo<br>Como la lluvia sobre tu cara  
>O el viejo mapa de algún tesoro<em>

Everett smiled, letting Cher's voice wash over him. He loved hearing her sing, and today, it made the air pulse with an energy and tension that they hadn't felt before. Everett thought back to the night he'd first seen Cher's tattoos – under the silvery moonlight in her backless bathing suit, Cher had looked like an angel – but even then, he'd not felt this close to her. Nor had he ached this badly for her.

She finished the song quickly, and Everett felt disappointed. "Sing it again?"

Cher shivered. The lust in Everett's voice was like a physical caress, a finger drawn down her spine, and she felt her cheeks warm. She cleared her throat, fidgeting on the cushion and squeezing her thighs together tightly before beginning the song again. This time when she finished, she continued to hum the melody, the sound of her own voice mixing with Everett's steady breathing and the swish of his brushes against the canvas to create a sort of concerto. She could smell paint and Everett's cologne, and the scents joined with the sounds to create an audio-olfactory soundtrack that she knew would always accompany her memory of this moment. She relished in it, so fiercely cloaked in love, lust, and peace that she felt as if she'd been hypnotized, her body lulled into a blissful trance.

The sound of Everett's voice shocked her back to full awareness.

"It's done."

She scrambled to get up but stopped at the sharp tingling that shot up her legs. She groaned.

"Cher?"

"My legs are asleep," she whined, hissing as she pounded on her legs and wiggled her toes. Everett watched amused as she worked life back into her limbs. He rose and stretched, his back and shoulders aching before he picked up his white button up from the floor and carried it to Cher. He draped it over her shoulders then kissed the top of her head, smiling when she moaned happily at the gesture. He went back to his painting and looked it over, happier with the finished product than he'd been with any other of his pieces.

Cher slipped her arms through the sleeves of Everett's shirt and buttoned it once in the middle. She stood cautiously, the occasional tingle still shooting through her feet as she went to Everett's side.

"Can I see it?" she asked as she approached him. He nodded, wiping his hands on his shirt. She stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing behind his earlobe before looking up to the canvas.

She gasped.

"Everett. Oh my god."

It was like someone had taken a high quality photograph and blown it up. The details were so precise, the painting shimmering with the same energy she'd felt in the room while he'd created it. The curtain of her hair fell gleaming and curly over her back. The smooth expanse of her back looked so real, embossed with the two curving lines of her tattoos. Her hips looked luscious and seductive, not fat and embarrassing as they appeared to her when she looked in the mirror. He'd even managed to make her like her feet.

He'd made her beautiful.

She felt the tears slip down her face and into Everett's hair as she kissed it. "Is this how you see me?" she asked, voice quiet but full of more emotion than he'd ever heard from her. Everett pulled her around to stand between his legs, one hand resting on her hip and rubbing it gently while the other pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

"No, Cher," he answered, looking deep into her eyes. "This is how you _are._" She cried in earnest then, overwhelmed and grateful and blushing. She wrapped her arms around Everett's neck, hugging him tightly and pressing as much of herself as she could against him.

"I love you. I love you so much," she whispered, her breath fanning across his neck and collarbone and making him shiver. He pulled back, bringing their lips together.

Their kiss was slow. Everett traced her lips with his own, pulling the bottom one into his mouth and sucking gently on it. Cher gasped against his lips, and he groaned. His tongue slid between her parted lips, tracing the insides of them gently with the tip of it before brushing over her tongue. Her fingers curled tightly in Everett's hair as she responded, massaging his tongue with hers before pushing her way into his mouth to use his own actions against him. He groaned deeply, when she grazed her teeth across his bottom lip, hands digging into her hips and causing her to moan. He pressed a kiss to the center of her top lip before pulling back, running a hand through her hair and looking into her eyes. They reminded her of his dad's expensive liquor, the stuff he only brought out when he was really happy or really pissed off. The deep brown was beautiful and powerful, Everett feeling certain he could get lost in it with no trouble or argument.

Cher smiled. "Thank you, Ev. It's…it's amazing. _You're _amazing." Everett smiled and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it." He leaned forward to press their lips together gently, Cher humming pleasantly. They heard the front door open and close and footsteps coming up the steps.

"Ev? Cher? Where are you guys?"

"Studio," Everett called out, smiling at Cher. "You gonna get dressed?" Cher shook her head.

"He's gay, Everett," she laughed, giggles turning into more solid peals of laughter at the frown on Everett's face.

"That doesn't mean I want him seeing you," he pouted, the twinkle in his eyes letting her know he was joking. They leaned in to kiss once more when a sharp intake of breath stopped them.

"Wow. That's…_wow._" Blaine stepped into the studio, stopping briefly to kiss Cher and clap his brother on the back before moving to take a closer look at the painting.

"Ev, that's _incredible_. Did you do this in one sitting?" Everett and Cher nodded.

"My legs are cursing me right now," she joked, and Blaine laughed.

"I bet they are! Geez, Everett, this is _incredible. _The shape of her body, her hair, her tattoos – do you really have those?" he asked, and Cher nodded. "Wow. She…she looks like a human violin." Everett beamed.

"That was the point," he answered.

"Damn. You captured her life, her energy, her beauty, and you don't even see her face. It's perfectly her, Ev." Everett ducked his head, feeling proud that his girlfriend and his twin both appreciated his work. It was honestly his favorite piece that he'd done up until then, and he didn't think anything he'd ever paint, draw, or sculpt – short of his and Cher's children – would ever be this good or valuable to him.

Cher blushed and teared up at Blaine's praise, one hand holding his and the other stroking through Everett's hair. She stood between her boys happily, and they basked in each other's presence and the weight of the moment. They stood like that for a long time, love flowing between them like electricity in a circuit, and Cher knew without a doubt that the day she'd just had was among the best of her entire life.


End file.
